


The Princess Badass

by GuestPlease, ircnman (halfthyme)



Category: Princess Bride (1987), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Swordplay, minor appearances from Matt and Dr Holt at the beginning, the others will come into play later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuestPlease/pseuds/GuestPlease, https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfthyme/pseuds/ircnman
Summary: An adventure of pirates and princesses, of derring-do, of true love and torture. This isn't your usual retelling of the Princess Bride.





	1. The Brides

**Author's Note:**

> For WLW Month Day 22: Movie/Theater AU. Because Lauren was confused by the prompt and Ruby went along with it.

_ Would you like to hear a story of bold princesses, strong women, brilliant geniuses and brave men and swordsmen seeking revenge? I can throw in a flirty miracle worker and his weird mentor as a bonus.  _

_ Is that not enough for you? What if I added an evil prince and a creepy six-fingered lady? See, there you go.  _

_ Wait, that’s still not enough? You want more? Fine. True love and witty one-liners. But that’s it. That’s where I draw the line.  _

o O o

Matt Holt was eight years old, and completely and utterly sick. Not sick enough for the hospital, thank God, but sick enough that he didn’t have to go to school-- the perfect set up. However, he quickly grew bored with his situation, and his mother was at the end of her rope dealing with a baby and a sick (and demanding) child.  This was why it didn’t exactly surprise Matt that his father came up to his room when Samuel Holt came home.

“Did you come to talk to me about being bratty to Mom?” Matt asked sullenly. 

Samuel sat down on a chair next to Matt’s bed and pulled out a worn paperback. “Actually, no. I came to read you a story.” 

Now Matt was interested, but he feigned nonchalance. “I’m too old for stories, read it to Katie.” 

“We’re never too old for stories.” Samuel shrugged. “And I don’t think Katie would appreciate it yet. I think you would like this one-- my father read it to me when I was sick, and his father read it to him.” 

“What’s it called?” Matt asked, interested. 

Samuel smiled. “It’s called  _ The Princess Bride. _

“Is this a girly book?” Matt asked suspiciously. 

“Even if it was, would that be so bad?” Samuel smiled slightly. “But like I said, I think you’d like it if you give it a chance. It has a swordsman, pirates, a strongman, someone exceedingly clever, witches, wicked princes, and rodents of unusual size.” 

Matt settled back on his mound of pillows. “Well… I  _ suppose _ I could listen, just for a bit.”

o O o

The story begins here,  in a land very different from our own and in another time, with princesses and pirates and technology galore.

In the land of Altea, a beautiful and intelligent princess lived with her father in a castle in the capital city. They had workers to help maintain the country, but most every subject was treated fairly and with kindness. The kingdom was intellectually rich, and produced many wondrous types of technology that could be utilized by any person, regardless of their background.

However, several years after the princess’s birth, the king’s brother grew angry at his lack of power and wealth. He spread his twisted logic throughout the land, spreading the seeds of resentment and bitterness. The king offered land and titles to his brother, but he would not listen to reason. With a growing army, he took the best land for himself and built a new nation, which he called the Galra Empire.

The king feared for his daughter’s life, and sent her far away to a small farming village far from the castle. There, she grew up surrounded by peace and relative prosperity.

A village girl, slightly older than the princess, was assigned to take care of her every need. They grew up together, and despite occasional conflicts they got along very well. The village girl taught the princess when to fight and when to rest, the power in pretending to be who you’re not, and the secret to each soul. Each lesson brought them closer together.

One chill day during autumn, the two girls were sparring in the forest. The village girl, Nyma, had found a clearing where they could practice, and the princess agreed to spar weekly in order to grow stronger. They wore clothing that would not rip or tear, and tied their hair out of their faces so as to have no distractions. 

“Shall we begin?” the princess asked, a gleam in her eyes.

“As you wish,” the village girl said coyly. She moved to a fighting stance and motioned for the princess to make the first move. The princess, called simply Allura by her friends, slowly circled her opponent before rushing forward. Nyma nimbly leapt out of the way, grinning as she did so. “Too slow, princess.” 

Allura rolled her eyes fondly. “Well, you haven’t even attacked yet.” 

“I was giving you a chance to actually fight me,” she scoffed.

Allura quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Or are you just as bad as me at this? Come on, Nyma. Attack.” 

“As you wish.” Nyma said again, before launching a series of attacks. Allura barely managed to block most of them, but Nyma slowly moved her back to the edge of the clearing. Allura backed up against a fallen log, and, after a particularly hard hit, tumbled over, snagging Nyma’s sleeve and pulling her down as well. 

The two girls groaned in pain, though Allura had taken most of the impact. She rubbed her head, wincing, then opened her eyes properly. Her eyes met Nyma’s, then widened in awe. “Your eyes are like the first stars that appear during dusk,” Allura breathed. “They’re beautiful.  _ You’re _ beautiful.” 

“You’re no slouch yourself,” Nyma laughed. 

Allura grabbed the front of Nyma’s shirt and pulled her into a deep kiss. Both were inexperienced and sloppy, but having nothing to really refer to, they deemed it excellent. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Allura said as they broke apart. 

“I thought _I_ was making it obvious with the whole ‘as you wish’ thing?” Nyma pouted, before getting to her feet and helping Allura up. “Clearly I need to be less subtle.” 

Allura laughed. “You could have just kissed me.” 

“Nah, not romantic enough.” Nyma smirked. “I know how this goes-- you’re a princess. Princesses need to be swept off their feet to have a happy ending.” 

Allura laughed again. “Right now, all I need for a happy ending is you.” 

Nyma flushed. “Don’t… argh, I don’t have anything nearly as sweet.” 

“Just kiss me,” Allura told her, interlocking her fingers with Nyma’s.

“As you wish.”

Not much sparring got done that day, or the next. Instead, Allura and Nyma found more and more excuses to be alone or in darkened cupboards and hallways. They could often be found talking and laughing together all around the small town they lived in. 

Several months after that first kiss, Nyma’s parents asked her to talk to them before going to bed. 

“I’m sure there’s no worry.” Allura said as they helped clean up after dinner. 

Nyma shrugged nonchalantly, but Allura could tell that she was only pretending. “It’s… you’re right. You’re right.” 

Allura placed a hand on Nyma’s shoulder, and Nyma moved to lean into Allura completely. “Hey, what are you worried about?” Allura asked softly. 

“My grandfather, maybe?” Nyma replied softly. “He’s been sick recently.” 

Allura rubbed her back gently. “I’ll be here for you no matter what.” 

Nyma pulled away, smiling. She wiped a little at her eyes. “Yeah, yeah… I know. I’ll go get it over with. Good night, Allura.” 

“Good night. I love you.” Allura told her, smiled. “Come talk to me if you need to.” 

Nyma couldn’t resist. She gave Allura a gentle kiss, then said, “As you wish.” 

She could still hear Allura laughing as she walked upstairs to her parents’ room. 

She forced a smile onto her face, then swung the door open. “What’s up?” 

Her mother’s mouth was a thin line. “Nyma… your relationship with the princess is… inappropriate.” 

“Inappropriate?” Nyma laughed in disbelief. “Wh-what’s inappropriate about it?” 

“She’s a  _ princess _ .” Nyma’s father interrupted gruffly. “She will return to her throne, and where will you be?” 

“I’d… go with her, of course.” Nyma took a step back. 

“She’s going to marry a prince someday, sweetheart.” Nyma’s mother said softly. “It’s… inevitable, really. We just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Nyma crossed her arms reflexively. “I won’t be hurt. Allura would never hurt me, we love each other!” 

“Nymeria Alliser!” Nyma’s father shouted. “Open your eyes! She is a  _ princess _ ! You are  _ nothing _ compared to her!” 

“I  _ know _ ! But she’s my  _ everything _ ,” Nyma shouted back. “You don’t understand!” 

“I understand perfectly!” Nyma’s father hissed. “But love won’t make you a lady, and love won’t give you gold. There is  _ nothing _ you can offer her, Nymeria!” 

Nyma glared at him, then said in a low voice, “Then I will go and make something of myself. It’s as simple as that.” 

“How will you do that without marrying a rich man?” Her mother asked. 

Nyma ground her teeth. “I’ll think of something. If you’ll excuse me?” She stormed out of the room, running into Allura in the hallway. 

“Where are you going?” Allura asked. 

Nyma pulled her into a deep kiss. “I’m going to go make myself worthy of you.” 

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Allura asked, grabbing Nyma’s arm. “ _ Worthy _ ? What d’you mean,  _ worthy _ ? You’re already worthy!” 

“No, I’m not.” Nyma said, cradling Allura’s face in her hands. “Not forever. Not when you go back to being a real princess instead of staying with us. I love you, Allura. I’ll always love you.” 

Allura pressed her lips against Nyma’s. “Do you really have to go? We can work something out.” 

Nyma nodded slowly. “I really, really do. It’s not for me, it’s for us.” 

Allura smiled sadly. “Well then… as you wish.” They paused for one more kiss. Usually when people speak of the top ten kisses of the world, there is a certain set of criteria. Wetness of both mouths, amount of tongue, lip movements, etc. This means that most scholars can agree on the best kisses of all time-- from Westley and Buttercup of nearby Florin to the very first kisses of nameless people. Everyone agrees though; this kiss was the best of all time.

After Nyma gathered supplies (with Allura’s help), Allura stood on the porch and watched her go. For a few weeks, Nyma would send letters-- she was going to town, she was going to the capital, she had decided to go to across the sea… and then, several weeks later, Allura received word of Nyma’s death. 

At first when she saw the messenger, she thought Nyma had finally reached her destination and had sent a letter. She ran to meet him. “Have you got anything… special for me?” 

“I have a letter by the Royal Navy for the Alliser family,” The messenger replied.    


“The Allisers? I’m staying with them, may I see it?” Allura asked. The messenger shrugged and gave her the letter. Allura brought it back to the house, where it lay forgotten for hours until Nyma’s mother picked it up and read it. She gave a piercing cry and fell to the ground sobbing. 

“Mrs. Alliser, what’s wrong?” Allura asked, running to help her. 

“Ny-Nyma…” Mrs. Alliser sobbed, handing Allura the letter.

_ ‘To whoever it may concern,  _

_ Your daughter, Nymeria Alliser, was on the ship ‘The Queen’s Glory’ when it was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts several days from reaching its destination. A survivor who leapt overboard at the beginning of the fight was able to give us details - your daughter died bravely, fighting with Roberts’ men until captured.  _

_ Please do not have hope that Nymeria Alliser remains alive. Roberts does not take prisoners, particularly those who fight him so vigorously. It is highly likely that she is dead, and that hope will only turn disappointment to despair. Attempting to find Nymeria Alliser would only lead to disaster for remaining family members. _

_ Cordially,  _

_ The Royal Navy.’  _

Allura felt empty upon hearing that Nyma was just… gone. She couldn’t quite believe it, even if she wanted to. She more or less collapsed into a seated position, re-reading the letter while she tried to make sense of it. Nyma couldn’t be  _ dead _ . She vaguely became aware of the fact that Mrs. Alliser was still sobbing next to her. Normally, Allura would have offered a hand or some encouraging words, but now… now she couldn’t bring herself to even move. 

Sometime later, she was helped to her room. She stayed there for quite a long time, and the Allisers could hear at different times deep sobs of sorrow which must have wracked Allura’s whole body, and at others an unnerving quiet.

Several weeks later, she finally emerged, dry-eyed. “I think it’s time I went home.” 

“But your father said--” Mr. Alliser began. 

“What could an assassin do to me that these pirates haven’t?” Allura interrupted. “They cut out my heart that day.” 

“You’ll learn to love again,” Mrs. Alliser said, putting a hand sympathetically on Allura’s arm. 

She pulled away abruptly. “My apologies, Mrs. Alliser, as I mean no offence, but I won’t. I have resolved to never love again.” 

“Can… you control that?” Mr. Alliser asked. 

“I can very well try. No one could even compare to Nyma anyways,” Allura remarked, before rising from her seat and heading upstairs to send word to the capital. 

Needless to say, her father was surprised by her decision, but arranged for travel and accommodations as soon as he heard. 

She rode to the capital two days later, her possessions packed in bags and her memories of Nyma stored in her heart.


	2. Getting to the Action (Finally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nyma and Allura learn some things (kicking ass and taking names, respectively).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Ruby is self-taught in terms of fight scenes, and constructive criticism is much appreciated. Enjoy!

Nyma woke up with a headache and an overwhelming sense of dread. She wasn’t sure where exactly she was, but she could tell that she wasn’t in her bunk on the Queen’s Glory. 

There was something rough on her head, possibly a sack of some sort, that restricted her vision and made it so that she couldn’t orient herself. Her hands were tied tightly with coarse rope that burned when she struggled.

Nyma reached desperately for the pocketknife she always kept in her back pocket, but couldn’t find the comforting lump of the tool. Cursing under her breath, she waited for someone to do something, even if that something were to throw her overboard.

It felt like hours had passed when the sack was finally removed. Nyma shook the sleep out of her eyes and grimaced. She was tied to a chair in a room made of old oak wood, a surprisingly messy desk in front of her. The slight rolling motion told her that she was still on a boat, though which one she couldn’t tell you. 

She desperately searched her memories for something, anything, that could explain this situation. Then she remembered, and she wished she hadn’t.

_She had been on the deck of the Queen’s Glory just before the attack. Old Marzon was teaching her how to hoist the sails when they heard screaming from the port side. The old man gave her the key to the weapons shed and instructed her to grab a sword for each of them and fight off the attackers while he readied the lifeboats._

_Nyma ran to the shed, terrified but prepared. She’d been training with a group of people onboard in case of a scenario like this one. She grabbed two sleek curved swords and sprinted back to where she and Marzon had been talking._

_It was too late. Four pirates had already surrounded Marzon and tied him to the mast. They were talking to him in low tones and didn’t see her behind them._

_Full of anger and desperate to prove her worth, Nyma dropped one blade and sliced the other downwards, slashing one pirate along his arm. The four men drew their weapons, and Nyma crouched into a fighting stance._

_Blades whizzed through the air, coming together with a metallic crash, then swinging apart again. Nyma was faster, but the men were infinitely more experienced. She tried to use the blade as if it was part of her, striking with brutal slashes and strokes._

_One man’s steel cut into her right shoulder while another lightly grazed her leg. Nyma grasped at her shoulder, hoping to stem the bleeding, and groaned in pain. The pirates, only slightly bloodied, advanced on her from all sides._

_She gritted her teeth and readied her sword for her last defense, fighting them off for as long as she could until she finally blacked out._

Nyma’s shoulder ached at the memories. Looking down at the injured arm, she noticed that the bandages were relatively fresh, though some blood was beginning to seep in.

“Are they too tight?”

Nyma’s head quickly whipped towards the door. Through the spots dancing in her vision, she could see a man with bronze skin leaning against the open doorway and looking at her. The expression on his face was casually neutral, but his eyes had a mischievous glint to them.

“Who are you?” Nyma asked angrily. “Why haven’t you killed me already?”

“You’re a feisty one,” he grinned. “Dread Pirate Roberts, at your service. I’d offer you a hand, but you seem a little preoccupied.”

Nyma spat in his face. “Untie me at once. Or are you too much of a coward?”

Roberts looked offended. “I was going to offer you a deal. If you join my crew, I’ll train you in swordplay and piracy and everything else you need to know.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll have you thrown overboard,” he smiled, malice showing in every crease of his face. “Make a decision. You have 12 hours.” The door clicked shut behind him.

Nyma sat in the dim light of the cabin, pondering her options. If she accepted, she might never be free again, but if she declined she’d be dead.

She thought of what she’d left behind, and knew what her choice would be.

o O o

Miles away, over choppy water and shore and vast expanses of land, Allura approached the capital. She was dressed simply, but her arrival was announced with the usual fanfare of a visiting diplomat. It jolted her a bit-- she had expected a homecoming as simple as her old life had been, but she couldn’t turn back now. 

She walked into the castle, head held high, and met her father in the throne room. Alfor smiled kindly, before rising from his throne to hug her. “Welcome home, daughter.” 

Allura hugged him back, though her clinging was more reminiscent of someone holding onto a lifeline. 

Alfor escorted her to her room, and she was able to change for dinner. They spent time catching up on the years while servants darted to and fro, which honestly distracted Allura after so many years of serving herself. 

In the middle of the first course, someone new swept in. “I’m not late, am I?” The man purred. He had a rather fox-like face, his long white hair braided away from it. His eyes darted around the room before settling on Allura, and then he gave her a cold smile. 

“You must be the infamous cousin.” He sat down next to her. “I’m Lotor, heir to the Galra Empire. I must say, you’re beautiful for someone raised by peasants.” 

He extended a hand, and Allura shook it after a quick glance at Alfor, who seemed unconcerned with Lotor. 

“...thank you?” Allura replied. “And by cousin, you mean…” 

“Our fathers are brothers,” Lotor shrugged. “Well, blood brothers, really. It’s no secret that they bear no resemblance to one another.” 

“Lotor,” Alfor finally snapped. “Do not talk of things you don’t know.” 

Lotor shrugged nonchalantly. “So, Allura, what sort of education have you received among the peasants?” 

“Excuse me?” Allura asked. 

“Have you studied diplomacy, military tactics, etiquette, history, languages…?” Lotor tried. 

Allura frowned. “No, I received a rounded education in science, math, technology and literature.” 

Lotor looked thoughtful, but Allura could tell he was calculating something. “So… you do realize what that means, correct?” 

“Lotor!” Alfor snapped. “That is enough. Allura has received an education, and I have no intention of dying any time soon. There is plenty of time to teach her the skills she will need to lead Altea.” 

Lotor shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose.” 

Dinner proceeded quietly, as did Allura’s reintegration into society. Alfor, true to his word, hired tutors to give her the crash course on being a monarch. Lotor watched this unhappily, but did nothing to stop it - at least, nothing that Allura could see. She barely interacted with him until the day that her father died swiftly in the night following a long illness. 

“It is truly a sad day,” Lotor said, approaching her after the funeral. 

Allura, who had been sitting at a window, didn’t turn. “Rumor has it that the illness was due to poison, and that someone smothered him in the night.” 

Lotor stood next to her, his hand resting on her lower back. “I will avenge your father, and I will make sure that you’re… taken care of.” 

Allura jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” 

Lotor smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, Princess. Forgive me. Please excuse me, I have urgent business with your father’s cabinet.” 

“As a matter of fact, so do I,” Allura replied icily. 

Lotor offered her his arm. “May I?” 

Allura did not accept. Together, they stiffly proceeded to the Council Room. 

The room quieted down when Allura and Lotor entered. The eldest minister spoke up, “Ah, Your Highnesses. We were just discussing who should be named King Alfor’s heir. Two wills have come to light, each naming different people. The original will names Allura, but a newer version names Lotor. However, it’s in contention for being.. conveniently timed.” 

Here the minister glared at Lotor, who feigned innocence. “Of course, I completely understand your concerns. Why not let the people decide?” 

The ministers all nodded thoughtfully. “Shall we go then?” 

“What, now?” Allura asked in surprise. 

The ministers nodded again. “No time like the present,” the leader proclaimed.

They all proceeded to the courtyard, and a junior minister cleared his throat. “People of Altea! Who do you want to be your next ruler? Hands up if you want Princess Allura, hands down if you want Prince Lotor.” 

Nearly everyone put their hands up. 

“This is insane! This is only a tiny group of random peasants!” Lotor spat. 

“That’s why no one wants you to be king, Lotor,” one of the ministers said. 

Lotor threw his hands up in the air, and stormed off for a few minutes to rant at the sky. 

“I’m not sure I’m quite ready to be queen,” Allura said to the ministers. “Especially so soon after my father’s death.” 

“I HAVE BEEN HERE FOR THIRTEEN YEARS WHAT THE QUIZNAK!” Lotor screamed in the background. He was ignored. 

“No one is saying you have to be queen yet,” a minister said kindly. “However, you are your father’s primary heir, and we ask that you save this country from ruination.” 

Everyone turned to stare at Lotor, who yelled to the sky, “I DESERVE TO BE KING! SHE’S A QUIZNAKING BUMPKIN WHO PROBABLY WON’T EVEN HAVE ANY HEIRS! WHY DOESN’T ANYONE REALIZE SHE ISN’T FIT TO RULE?!” 

“Poor man, he’s gone quite mad,” another advisor tutted. 

Allura frowned. “That doesn’t mean he’s not right… in some respects… Lotor! Shut up!” 

Surprised that anyone would dare contradict him, Lotor turned to look at her. “What?” 

“Help me learn to be queen until I’m ready.” Allura held out her hand. “You’re my cousin, I trust you.” 

Lotor looked at her hand, then looked back to her face. Then he smiled, slowly and cruelly. “Of course, princess.” 

“That is clearly evil.” A bystander muttered. 

Allura pulled her hand back and subtly wiped it on her dress. “Then it’s settled.”

o O o

The sweet salty air rushed through Nyma’s long hair, leaving tangles and curls in its wake. She breathed deeply, relishing the swaying movement of the waves and the warm sun beginning to beat down on her back. 

She’d spent so much time at sea that it seemed natural to her, an extension of her body that spanned the world. There was so much out there, even in the middle of nowhere, and Nyma loved all of it.

Still, she often thought of Allura, and the remembering brought with it deep wells of melancholy and loss. At ports, she collected any information she could find: whether through reputable sources such as official heralds and press releases, or through rumors, gossip, and “official” gazettes.

She came back to Altea every year, using the excuse of preying on guests at the Midsummer's Ball. And every year, rumors about the princess spread like wildfire.

“She’s one of the most beautiful women alive,” the townspeople murmured. “The Olkari princesses simply can’t compete.”

One night in the tavern, when Nyma was gathering information for her next heist, she heard something shocking. “Rumor has it the princess has vowed to never love again,” a hairy man proclaimed. His partner shushed him. 

A slightly burly man spoke up next. “I’ve heard she vowed to never love a man.”

Nyma raised her eyebrows at that. “And what do you mean by that?” she interjected coolly.

The burly man replied, “It means that she’s–” The man next to him slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish.

“She’s what? Do continue,” Nyma purred. “Or are you too afraid of an innocent little girl like me kicking your ass?”

The man’s hand strayed dangerously close to the knife on his belt. A cluster of men, equally as burly, formed around him. 

Nyma gracefully rose from her stool and cracked her knuckles. “Well, if that’s how you want it.” The group behind her opponent shifted and murmured. Something in the air felt different, more dangerous, than it did before.

She whistled loudly and suddenly there were three brawny men at her back.

“There trouble, Cap’n?” one man grunted.

“Not tonight. You three are dismissed, I’ll handle this one myself,” she told them. tilting her head with a shit-eating grin, she looked directly at the instigator. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna have fun this time. Carolina was so boring.”

Her opponent, tired of her talking, lunged towards her with his hands aiming for her neck. 

Nyma stepped to the side as the man rushed past her. “Too slow,” she sang. He stopped in his tracks and turned back around. “Care to try again? Or is it my turn?”

He charged her again. “Someone needs to teach you some manners,” he grunted. This time, Nyma didn’t move. Instead, she reached towards her belt and drew her favorite knife. As the burly man hurtled towards her, she calmly stepped away from him and spun, using his momentum against him. She grabbed him, pulling him in. She pressed her blade against his throat. “Anything else you’d like to say about the Princess, or are you done speaking?”

Her opponent was scared witless, hardly even able to speak for fear of the blade.

“I said, is there anything else you’d like to say?” Nyma growled, looking around the room. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

A resounding “no” came from everyone present. Her opponent whimpered quietly, but Nyma could hear a negative from him as well. She abruptly dropped him on the floor, where he lay limp, as if boneless, on the wooden boards. 

She wiped her hands on her pants, then headed for the door. At the threshold, she turned, illuminated by the dying light outside. “Remember, lads. Disrespect for the princess should never be tolerated. Especially not when the Dread Pirate Roberts has returned.” She smiled, cold and cruel. “Cold steel through your belly can do an awful lot to fix an attitude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

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